No one lasts forever
by dodger-chan
Summary: Far in the future, Hisoka's mind starts to slip. Inspired by Enma's comments in volume 8 of the manga.


*sigh* None of it's mine. If only…

Slight Warning: At the time this was written, I'd been up over 40 hours. For those of you who sleep, this story may be a bit odd.

No one lasts forever. 

That's my explanation for myself. For how I've gone a little strange in my old age. No one lasts forever. When we were mortal, our bodies decayed and now that we are dead, it's our minds that slowly go. The human mind wasn't made to last an eternity. That's why Shinigami pass on. Watari did. Tatsumi did. Terazuma, Wakaba, Saya, Yuma, Chizuru, all of them. Someday I will, too. Not yet, though.

I'm not ready to let go just yet. And so I stay.

I've picked up some odd habits over the years. Little quirks that drive each new partner mad with questions. Not that they wouldn't ask stupid questions anyway; they're new, they have to be like that. 

_How can he be a Shinigami? Isn't he just a kid?_

Stupid, typical questions. Not worthy of answers. I've yet to meet a new partner who could come up with a real, _intelligent_ question on the first day. Sometimes they can manage something by the time they're ready to leave. I give them enough to think about.

_Why does he bring fresh doughnuts to work every morning? He never eats them._

_Where does he go after work every day? _

_What does he do with all that candy he buys in the living world? He never gives it to anyone._

_Why does he add sugar to his sake?_

_When is he going to pass on? Hasn't he been here long enough?_

Sometimes, the idiot I'm partnered up with will actually ask me. I don't think my answers help them understand anything. They'd have to last much longer for that. But I answer them anyway. 

I like to feed people. 

It's one of the more normal of my strange behaviors. I've turned into a mother, taking over the role of others as they moved on or ceased caring. Occasionally, watching workers happily devour snack foods brings up memories that make me smile. More often they make me cry.

I go to hell after work. 

I've worked with people foolish enough to believe I slipped into Makai every night. In a way that would be true. It's only the house I've lived in since I died, if that statement even makes sense, but it's full of demons. Most intangible, one very much concrete.

I take the candy home. 

The least complicated aspect of my life, and no one realizes it. Brightly colored candies, delicately wrapped, cover my shelves, my table, my floor. I do give them away. I give them to him. From time to time, he'll actually eat one, but not often. He doesn't notice them much anymore. Candy used to be one of his favorite things. He ate it so often it left a permanent taste in his mouth. 

Sugar and sake.

Not a combination to live on, but a fine one to die on. Or be dead on. The bitterness of the sake and the sweetness of the candy, a perfect contrast to taste in his mouth when we kissed. The fresh smell of that morning's baking and the stale scent of the previous night's drinking curling up my nose as my face burrowed into his neck enjoying the delicate balance of his mind, his soul, his self. But the balance couldn't last. It was always teetering, just on one side of madness. It was always only a matter of time. For every one of us, it's only a matter of time. 

No one lasts forever.

It would be easy to let go, move on. Keep my mental state as intact as it is now. Staying will only lead me farther from sanity. My mind will go, as everyone's does after so many years. Passing on is the natural order. It's what is supposed to happen. I can't, though. I can never pass on. 

I really could, actually. And someday I'll have to. Enma will force me to leave, just as he forces him to stay. Forced him to be Shinigami when all he wanted was death. Forced him to kill no matter how much it hurt. Forced him to keep working until the tenuous grasp on sanity he had gained disappeared without any trace. Keeps him here even now, when nothing's left but the raw, untouchable power. He's not really here anymore.

I told him I wanted to be with him. I told him I'd go wherever he went. I never meant to lie to him. I've become like him, I suppose. The only promise I made, and it's one I can't really keep. It's why I'm still here. Maybe, when my mind goes, it will go where his is. I know once that happens, I won't be permitted to exist long. I'll only have as long as it takes someone to notice. But it will be enough if I go where he is. I need to see him again, not merely the hollow husk that sits in my house, staring at my walls. I need him to see me, see me and know me again, if only for one instant. Just long enough for him to know I followed him. Anything longer than that would be, to use a phrase he would like, icing on the cake. 

But I was never much of one for cake, iced or not. I want to be with him again. I want to spend hours curled up in his arms. I want to call him an idiot and not mean it. I want him to say I'm cruel and mean it even less. I want to berate him for eating too much, drinking too much and spending too much money. I want to hear that petulant tone I always found so irritating. I want to hate him when he has to take care of me, because I'm too weak. I want him to protect me again. I want him to love me again. 

That's much more along the lines of pie a la mode. Cake is the best I can hope for. Cake with icing, because more time would, of course, be better. No ice-cream, though. That would be too much. I'd be noticed eventually, and like nearly all crazy Shinigami, sent on. It's only what needs to be done. After all, no one lasts forever.

Review. Review or I'll summon demons and send them after you.


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